


Madison Avenue

by Beej88, the7joker7



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: 1960s, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beej88/pseuds/Beej88, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the7joker7/pseuds/the7joker7
Summary: It’s the 1960s, and The Coca-Cola Company wants a new advertising campaign. Nobody could be better to put it together than Kunzite, head of creative at the Tsukino-Chiba advertising firm. All he needs now is the right model. AU, T for language/themes. Mad Men homage/tribute.
Relationships: Aino Minako/Kunzite
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Senshi & Shitennou Mini Bang 2020





	Madison Avenue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beej88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beej88/gifts).



> For the Senshi/Shittenou bang.

Madison Avenue

Summary: It’s the 1960s, and The Coca-Cola Company wants a new advertising campaign. Nobody could be better to put it together than Kunzite, head of creative at the Tsukino-Chiba advertising firm. All he needs now is the right model. AU, T for language/themes. Mad Men homage/tribute.

“

1960

“Are we sure Crest sent these?” Jadeite widened his stance out a bit, holding the iron golf club out in front of him and slowly waving it back and forth.

“Why does that matter?” Zoisite asked, watching as Jadeite adopted the traditional golfer’s stance.

“Just a feeling I have,” Jadeite answered. “These other advertising firms are relentless, might be trying to lure Kunzite over.”

The large corner office up on the fourteenth floor of the Time and Life Building, a construction of dark oak wood and soft pastel colors that was the envy of pretty much every other employee at Tsukino-Chiba. Offering a view overlooking Madison Avenue, you could see the never-ending rows of cars and pedestrians streaming by in either direction down below. It wasn’t exactly surprising that Jadeite, Zoisite, and Nephrite tended to make this particular room a hangout spot, despite it not belonging to any of them.

“I don’t think golf clubs are moving Kunzite’s needle,” Nephrite said, leaning up against the dark oak desk planted near the back-center of the room. “Maybe buy him a boat.”

“Maybe after he signs with them,” Jadeite countered, drawing the iron back towards the right, bringing it up above his head. “You can’t buy him a boat before.”

At that moment, the door swung open on its hinges, a scowling man with a head of thick, short white hair entering and looking around at the unwanted visitors. “I’m sure I locked this door,” he muttered to himself.

“The Boss unlocked it for your delivery,” Zoisite said, glancing over towards the bag full of golf clubs quickly.

“Mm,” Kunzite grunted. “Were you three part of my delivery in some way? I can’t think of any other reason why you’d be in here.”

“It’s not like we’d actually do anything,” Jadeite said, bringing the club head around in a slow-motion, deliberate swing, hitting an imaginary ball before bringing it back up on the other side of his body. “I’d prefer not to lose my job, I like it.”

“You do?” Kunzite strided over towards the blond and brusquely ripped the expensive club from his grip. “Then it’s in your best interest to leave, now.”

“What, you’d tell on me?” Jadeite asked, nevertheless relenting and shuffling around his colleague. “It was an...inspired campaign you put together for Crest, by the way. Really. If I could put together things like that, I’d probably feel safe coming into work at ten too.”

Kunzite responded by spinning the club around his hand and giving Jadeite a firm whack on the head with the rubber grip end of it. “Enough. Out.”

“Ah, well, actually Kunzite, I did want to discuss something with you today,” Zoisite began, pointing over at an oversized manila folder leaning against the wall right by the door.

Immediately, Kunzite seemed to relax a bit, sliding the iron back into the blue and white golf bag. “Coca-Cola?”

“I was able to do some coloring this morning on it too.” Zoisite, with a hurried gait that gave away his excitement at being able to showcase his work. “Just to emphasize a couple things.”

“Don’t keep him too long, Zoisite,” Jadeite said just after stepping through the threshold of the open door, back out into the primary hub of Chiba-Tsukino, where rows of noisy typewriters created an environment of chaos. “I’m sure he wants to be left alone so he can take a nap.”

Jadeite swiftly ducked out before Kunzite could offer any form of retort, Nephrite not far behind, the brunette shutting the door behind him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be long,” Zoisite said as he unfastened the strap around the manila folder.

“I’m not going to take a nap,” Kunzite said sternly. He gestured towards the folder with his right hand’s index finger. “G-go on, let’s see it.”

“I was thinking a woman,” Zoisite said, pulling a thin sheet of white paper out, slapping it down on the desk so the faint pencil lines on it could be easily seen. “It’s women who buy these products most of the time.”

“Believe me, I know,” Kunzite said, leaning down over the rough sketch. “Alright, let’s see here.”

Pressed up against the dark wood of Kunzite’s desk, the sketch lines were clearly visible. As Zoisite had advertised, it was indeed a woman depicted on the sketch, sitting on what might have been a park bench. Zoisite’s light coloring had done well to make it clear that the girl was blonde, hair just shy of her shoulders. She was holding a red can, the all-familiar logo displayed clearly on the side, held just perfectly for the perspective to capture it.

“I’ll never really understand the can,” Kunzite muttered. “The glass bottle was fine. So much more…” he gestured his hands in the air in front of his chest, “uh...powerful.”

“And expensive,” Zoisite countered. “Not everyone has a corner office in the Time and Life building and a six figure savings account, you know.”

Kunzite’s nose wrinkled. “Hanging out in my office is one thing, Zoisite, but if you’re actually going through my mail—”

“It’s an estimate!” Zoisite interrupted. “Calm down.”

“Is this supposed to be Grace Kelly?” Kunzite asked, tapping his finger on the woman in the center of the sketch.

“I was sort of thinking that when I drew it,” Zoisite admitted, sounding quite happy that his visual cues had been picked up on. “Good luck getting her to show up to the casting call.”

“Any girl can be Grace Kelly for two minutes,” Kunzite said. “It might just take two hours in the chair to make it happen.”

“If this concept clears, I might have to stop by casting,” Zoisite said dreamily. “If they understand what we’re looking for, they should be pulling in some real good ones.”

Kunzite hiccuped out a little laugh. “Well, now you make it sound like we’re doing something inappropriate.”

“Aren’t we?” Zoisite pointed over at his colleague. “Like you won’t be going?”

“

With a small grunt and loud thwack, Kunzite brought the heavy iron club around his body in a violent arc, whipping the head of it right into a small, white ball. The small sphere flew off into the distance with great speed, ripping through the air, just barely visible against the backdrop of the blue sky, rapidly shrinking.

Mamoru gave a low whistle as Kunzite came out of his follow-through, peering out at the projectile from behind a pair of gold-framed Ray-Bans. “You know, Kenji’s father insists that the clubs don’t make a difference. Says it all comes down to the player.”

“As someone who’s had the displeasure of trying a wooden club, I’ll protest that.” Kunzite leaned the club against his shoulder and spun around, strolling back over towards the parked golf cart that he and Endymion were sharing.

“So. Coca-Cola,” Mamoru said as his colleague jabbed his club back into the bag latched onto the rear side of the cart. “That’s a life-altering one.”

“Believe me, I know,” Kunzite said, neatly hopping into the passenger-side seat of the cart. “The account has my full attention.”

“What are you thinking?” Mamoru asked as he languidly came around to the left side of the small vehicle.

“Micro-managing isn’t really your style, in my experience,” Kunzite said guardedly. “I hope that’s not changing.”

“Well, this is something of a life-altering event,” Mamoru said, engaging the electric vehicle’s motor and manipulating the pedals below his feet to send it forward, down the pristine green stretch of carefully-cultivated grass. “I’d hate for anything to go wrong. The advertising agency that had a chance to work with Coca-Cola and blew it would be hard pressed to draw clients.”

Kunzite leaned his head back a bit. “And I certainly have a history of ruining accounts since I started here.”

“Don’t be like that,” Mamoru chided, reaching forward towards the drink holder by his right hand and removing a green glass bottle with a green ‘Heineken’ label on the front.

“I’m not seeing any need to reinvent the wheel,” Kunzite said simply. “I’m sure you know what sells just as much as I do.”

After taking a large swig from the green bottle, Mamoru hiccuped a little laugh. “If that’s the case, what am I doing paying you?”

“Your father-in-law pays me,” Kunzite said in barely over a mumble.

“I’m very confident that you understand what sells far better than I ever could,” Mamoru stated, wrenching the steering wheel to the right and pulling over into the rough where his ball had landed. “And if not, then I greatly fear for the firm.”

“You just have to find the right woman,” Kunzite stated as Mamoru slid out of the side of the cart.

“Right for what?” Mamoru asked as he meandered over towards his own bag of clubs, clearly more interested in discussing business than the actual minutia of the sport he was participating in.

“It’s not as easy as you might think,” Kunzite said cryptically. “Find a woman that men and women appreciate. Delicate line to walk. The man has to be drawn to her beauty and charisma, yet somehow in a way that doesn’t threaten their wives. Beautiful, but inoffensive and non-threatening. Everybody buys soda, there’s no one demographic you can prioritize.”

“So, a woman,” Mamoru mused as he withdrew his eight-iron. “What else? I could have gone to Jadeite and he would have given me the same thing.”

“The rest comes later, after we find the right woman.” Kunzite leaned forward and delicately grabbed his partially-burnt cigarette from the dash. “We find the right girl, and we build everything around her.”

“Spoken like a man who would spend his Thursday afternoon drinking at the golf course,” Mamoru said wryly, immediately walking up into his stance by his ball, partially burrowed among the thicker, darker grass. “Just make sure you have something a little more presentable for when the old man comes asking around about this.”

Without taking so much as a second to consider his shot, Mamoru poised his clubhead right behind his ball, brought the iron tool back behind his head, and sloppily swung it through.

“

Kunzite held his arms out at full extension in front of him, thumbs and forefingers pointed straight out in L-shapes, using the four extended digits to form a makeshift frame, through which he was looking at assorted young women, one at a time. He lingered on each for just a few seconds before moving to the next one.

“Picking up habits from Zoisite?” Jadeite asked, leaning up over his left shoulder and craning his head slightly to peer through Kunzite’s finger frame. Kunzite jerked his torso back slightly, bumping Jadeite away.

“Behave,” he grunted in reply. The two were seated next to each other in a small, dim room, little of note beyond a large window that took up most of the west-facing wall. This glass portal provided an expansive view of the neighboring room, a waiting room of sorts, rows of chairs and magazines littered about on end tables, the walls painted a calming blue. Most of the seats were filled with attractive young blondes, at least partially matching the general physical description of the desired model.

“Is it empowering, being able to just put out a couple paragraphs to casting to get them to round up all the most beautiful women in the city like this?” Jadeite asked. “It seems like it would be.”

“This may surprise you, but this isn’t actually my entire job,” Kunzite replied, sizing up one of the girls seated along the right side of the room, twin-tailed and wearing a green high-neck blouse. “Very little of it, actually.”

Jadeite lifted his cigarette up to his lips. “And yet, it could be. The fact that you don’t make it your entire job positively mystifies.”

The door to their right quietly popped open, a man with short blond hair ducking into a seat next to Jadeite. “Alright, boys, what do we got?”

“I was about to send out a search party,” Jadeite muttered. “Couldn’t believe you’d ever take the chance of missing this.”

“I got held up in a pitch meeting with Balai,” the newcomer answered. “Besides, you know I prefer redheads.”

Jadeite rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, Motoki, I’m sure you’d turn your nose up at everyone in that room.”

Despite his slightly dismissive words, Motoki leaned forward, scanning the room through the large window. “I’m here, aren’t I? Okay, who’s the future face of Coca-Cola?”

“I’m more interested in the future Miss Kunzite Tisch,” Jadeite countered, giving a side glance over towards the head of creative at Tsukino-Chiba. “He likes blondes.”

“I’m the only one here for work,” Kunzite grumbled. “You two—”

The left-side door in the waiting room was thrown open, every single young woman in the room looking up as another young woman entered.

“Maybe that one?” Jadeite suggested, as the new girl quickly found an empty seat. Her robust, waist-length mane of hair was particularly eye-catching, enough to make her stand out amidst the collection of attractive blondes. Kunzite quickly framed her in his fingers, studying her.

“Now there’s the color,” Motoki marvelled. “Spun from golden straw.”

The newcomer glanced up, staring directly through the mirror, seemingly looking right at the trio of observers. Jadeite flinched back a bit, reflexively reacting as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

And then, she waved, wearing a sly smile as she did so.

“W-wait a minute, they can see us in here?!” Motoki asked, jolting back in his seat.

“Obviously not,” Kunzite said, trying to sound unconcerned, although even he was clearly surprised at this young woman’s curious actions. “We’ve all been inside that room before, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Interesting place to put a giant mirror, don’t you girls think?” she said. A few of the others twisted around slowly, looking up towards the large reflective surface on the wall.

Motoki couldn’t help but grin a bit, quickly settling back down. “Well, Jadeite, clearly she’s not your type. She has a brain.”

“Funny,” Jadeite deadpanned. “Well, I suppose we can cross her off.”

“What makes you think that?” Kunzite asked, regarding Jadeite’s quick dismissal with transparent derision. “I already remember her better than anyone else in that room.”

Jadeite shrugged. “She has an attitude. Who wants to work with that? I mean, if you’re into it, good for you, but that’s not—”

Kunzite got to his feet, reaching into his chest pocket and removing a red and white box of cigarettes. “Alright, gentlemen, I have to get to work. Feel free to move to watching the interview room, just try to be discrete.”

“

“Hm, Lowry’s Motor Repair, can’t say I’ve heard of that one,” Kunzite admitted, eyes downcast as he shuffled through a small collection of black and white photographs.

“They’re not a chain, just one local store over in Saratoga Springs. I’m friends with the daughter of the owner,” Sarah explained.

“You were paid for this work, right?” Tanaka asked. “It was an actual job, with paperwork and contracts and all that?”

“O-oh, yes, of course,” she replied, nervously darting her gaze back and forth between the two large men.

The room was plain and small, white walls and wooden tile floor, a single mirror on the left side wall and a chalkboard on the right side. There was a single table, long and flat, with Sarah sitting in a lone chair on one side and her two examiners on the other side. Kunzite was accompanied by one of the representatives of the casting agency they were utilizing, the two of them working together to make determinations on the prospective models.

“Alright, Sarah, I think that’s all we need,” Kunzite said. “Thank you for coming out today.”

“O-oh,” she said, clearly a little put out. “I, uh...we’re not going to do any poses or...anything like that?”

“That’ll be part of the next stage,” Tanaka stated, making an effort to put her at ease with a smile. “We’ll get more into things like that if we give you a callback, so...just listen for that phone call.”

Seemingly at least somewhat comforted by this, the shoulder-length haired blonde got to her feet. Offering a curtsy towards the two men on the other side of the table from her, she turned and left the room. As soon as she was out, the two men turned towards each other.

“Too nervous,” Kunzite said quickly, leaning over to look at the clipboard in Tanaka’s lap. “Didn’t have the confidence I’m looking for.”

“Of course she was nervous,” Tanaka said with a little hiccup of a laugh. “She’s looking at you, you’re scary, I’d be nervous too sitting across from you.”

“I am not scary,” Kunzite protested, sticking the end of his cigarette between his lips and leaning down to his left, reaching towards an open briefcase on the floor and pulling out another manilla envelope. “And even if I am, if she can’t handle one scary person, how will she handle hundreds of millions of eyeballs on her model work every single day for years?”

“It’s a model, not a spokesperson,” Tanaka pointed out, leaning over to look at the collection of photographs that Kunzite had just pulled from the folder. “She was pretty, what else do you need?”

“All these girls are pretty,” Kunzite said, his interest in the dispute waning as the new collection of photographs immediately drew his attention. Her distinctive, waist-length hair was more than enough for Kunzite to identify her as the late-arriver earlier that afternoon, even in an assortment of outfits that contrasted tremendously with her attire today. He was particularly taken in by one shot of her wearing a short, boxy jacket of a very striking red color.

“Huh,” Tanaka said. “She’s got the right color. That’s a good start.”

Kunzite, however, was a bit more taken by her expression. There was something in her whimsical smile that gave away an air of confidence that he hadn’t yet seen today. It was just a single picture, of course, but there was something eye-catching about her look.

“Shall we?” Tanaka asked, placing his right index finger atop a circular black button on the table’s corner. Kunzite nodded and he pushed the button in hard. The two could faintly hear the abrasive buzzing from out in the hallway.

“Minako,” Kunzite said, thumbing through the assorted pictures in the folder. “That’s the name.”

“And seriously, try smiling or something,” Tanaka suggested out of the corner of his mouth.

A few seconds later, the lone door in or out of the room swung outward, admitting perhaps the twentieth young blonde woman the two had interacted with in the last couple hours. Minako, still every bit the eye-catching beauty that she had appeared to be in the waiting room, couldn’t help but light up the room with her energy and enthusiasm in a way that the prior girls just couldn’t quite manage.

“Afternoon, gents,” she said, glancing to the right. “Interesting fascination with mirrors in this building.”

Sure enough, there was indeed a sizable mirror on this wall, through which Kunzite knew a couple of colleagues and co-workers were watching the proceedings.

“Um...I suppose so,” Tanaka said, visibly confused at the seeming non-sequitur. Kunzite, however, couldn’t help but give a resigned smile and a knowing glance over towards the mirror. To his satisfaction, he didn’t hear any commotion on the other side of the reflective surface.

“Alright, uh, Minako,” Tanaka said awkwardly, mildly uncomfortable and trying to get back on schedule. “So, I see here that you’ve done some work for, uh...Fizzies! Candy, that’s fun.”

“Happy Fizzies party!” Minako said, sitting down in the lone chair set up for the interviewees. “Finally, I get to talk to people who might actually be familiar with that slogan.”

“Ah, give it a couple years, it might catch on!” Kunzite suggested, shrugging. “Turning a boring glass of water into a sugary punch, kids’ll love it, they just have to find out it exists.”

“So, you have experience with products loaded with sugar,” Tanaka pointed out. “That’s good.”

“Hm, now that you mention it, I seem to recall tasting a certain hint of sweetness last night at dinner,” Minako said dryly. “You’re saying that’s sugar?”

“So you drink Coca-Cola?” Kunzite asked.

“Yes, and I also inhale oxygen,” Minako answered. “Though it’s anyone’s guess which one I do more.”

“Good answer, if only your figure didn’t give up the game,” Tanaka quipped.

“So you noticed, that has to be good for me,” Minako quickly replied, Kunzite noting how sharp the young woman seemed to be, finding yet another way in which she stood out amongst the chaff.

“

Minako was quick to plunge her right hand into her purse the moment she was through the large revolving glass doors, back out onto the chaotic streets of New York, a stark contrast from the controlled cleanliness of the towering skyscraper she had just departed. Her fingers sought out the half-used carton of Lucky Strikes she knew was buried there somewhere.

As she went through the short process that she knew so well of withdrawing a cigarette, she mentally went over how the meeting had gone, trying to process all the little things in the relatively short interaction that might influence a decision. All the unconventional things she had said and done in an attempt to get some attention. It was hard to stand out in this city, particularly in this line of work, something she had discovered the hard way, even as a head-turningly beautiful blonde. Almost enough to make her miss being the biggest fish in a tiny bond back in Roxbury.

So, unable to lean on her typical assets, she had decided to throw a couple little curveballs into her first impression. It was one hell of a risk to take given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in front of her, but she could have sworn that it might have actually worked. At the very least, she seemed to have gotten the two men she had to impress to remember her by something concrete.

Inserting the tip of the freshly-withdrawn cigarette into her mouth, she was about to start searching for her lighter when her need for one was suddenly removed. A large hand, connected to a man she had just met in the last hour, dangled a silver Camel lighter in front of her face.

“I got you,” Kunzite said, flicking the lid off the lighter.

“Did I forget something?” Minako twisted around and leaned over a bit, peering through the window that framed the revolving door into the lobby of the skyscraper.

“You tell me,” Kunzite said.

“What, are you done already?” she asked, turning back around and leaning forward towards Kunzite, allowing him to place the tiny flame against the tip.

“Eh.” Kunzite shrugged. “What’s the worst they can do?”

“Fire you?” Minako suggested, taking in a deep inhale from the activated tobacco stick.

“Hm, you’re funny,” Kunzite said dryly. “You caught my eye in there, what can I say? Tanaka can handle himself with those girls.”

“Wait wait wait,” Minako said, perking up instantly. “A-are you trying to tell me something?” She pointed over her shoulder. “Did...did I—”

“Not my call to make,” Kunzite said shortly, pocketing his lighter in his right chest pocket. “You are getting called back though, for whatever it’s worth, I’ll see to that.”

“Oh!” Minako exclaimed, having been swung around violently on a trolley of emotions in just a few short sentences, but happy to have landed on her feet at the end. “W-well...uh, that’s good. You’re here to tell me that?”

“Actually, I was wondering what you might have planned tonight,” Kunzite asked. It was hard for a man of his size and stature to not appear intimidating at all times, but he did his best to not look as if he was trying to intimidate her.

“You move to the second round of interviews that quickly?” she asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“N...no,” Kunzite said. “I was just thinking, it’d be too bad if that was the one and only time in my life I got to interact with you.” He jerked his head over to the left. “I’m with the advertising agency, I don’t...get to work with the models all that much, so...sometimes you have to take things into your own hands a little bit.”

“Hm,” Minako grunted. “Is this some sort of...deal we’re making? Just so I understand what this is.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m asking you to pay for dinner,” Kunzite said. “And don’t worry, you caught the attention of two men when you were in that room up there. Either way, you’re advancing.”

“So I can say no?” she asked with a grin.

“I don’t recommend it,” Kunzite said. “Do I need to show you a pay stub to convince you? You know what people in my line of work make?”

“Less than what the lead model for Coca-Cola makes,” Minako countered coolly.

“There are a lot of landmines between you and that,” Kunzite said. “But, if that’s how you feel.” He shrugged his sizable shoulders and took a half-step back.

“I didn’t say no,” Minako said, putting the cigarette to her lips once again. “I just wanted to make sure I could. The route being there means something, even if it isn’t taken.”

“Well, it’s a yes or no question, so I don’t think it should take you much time to figure out which one strikes your fancy,” Kunzite said. “Come on, it’s cold out.”

“

Kunzite had become quite accustomed to looking at things through a distorting haze of smoke. So much so, it was almost unnatural for him to not be trying to parse his vision through such a handicap. He was as used to it as he was coming up with advertising campaigns, which he seemed to have been placed on Earth in order to do.

Yet, for the first time in many years, he found himself wishing that he wasn’t working through that distortion. Inside the dimmed main room of Delmonico’s, sitting at a small circular dining table close to the middle of the room, Kunzite almost wanted to stand up and ask that the many dozens of other dining patrons around him might snuff their cigarettes for a few moments.

He wanted to view her as purely as possible, with no opportunity for visual mirages or distortions to trick him into not fully grasping what he was looking at. There was just something so striking about her visually, even though a cursory examination might reveal nothing more than a standard blonde with traditionally attractive and desirable features. He, however, was seeing much more than that, and the tobacco smoke that the room was bathed in was inhibiting his ability to truly appreciate it.

But, of course, he didn’t do that. He settled for what he could get, which was a credible consolation prize, in fairness.

“Greenwich Village?” Kunzite said, sounding quite intrigued. “I’ve heard fascinating things about that neighborhood, are the stories true?”

“Some of them,” Minako said. “Of course, some of them aren’t. That’s the fun of stories, you...you take the real ones, and then you stretch them out about twenty percent, and make up stories from there.” She cleared her throat, starting to saw her steak knife back and forth on top of her cut of prime rib. “And before you ask, don’t worry. I’m into guys.” She smirked up at Kunzite.

“I wasn’t planning on asking,” Kunzite said dismissively. “Don’t worry, I can see the way you’re looking at me.”

“Maybe I’m acting,” Minako suggested slyly.

“You and your maybes,” Kunzite said. “I was actually more thinking about the art scene over there.”

“Ah, you wouldn’t like it,” Minako said dismissively, lifting a piece of expensive beef to her lips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kunzite asked. “Let me guess. Straight-laced square advertising executive, can’t comprehend or appreciate art? That's the assumption?”

“Maybe some art. But Greenwich Village? Even I don’t get it, and I grew up there.” She rolled her eyes. “Ever heard of ‘Off-Off-Broadway’?”

“More than a few times,” Kunzite said. “I’ll have to pass on actually experiencing it.”

“Good call,” Minako said with a chuckle. “But there’s some good stuff over there too. Dave Van Ronk. Remember that name. If there’s any justice, he’ll end up the second most famous person to come out of there.”

“Second to you, I assume?” Kunzite replied.

“Speaking of which, let’s talk about that,” she said. “Obviously, we have to go through the motions, but we both know how this ends, so when do you imagine this process is finalized? Obviously, an advertising campaign of this size and magnitude is something I’ll want to put all my energy into, so I want some idea of when we’ll start.”

Kunzite sighed. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t misinterpret this dinner invitation.” He glanced over to his right, towards a family with two teenage children, dining at a neighboring table.

“I didn’t misinterpret anything,” Minako countered. “Unless I’m misinterpreting you as a man of good character and decent morals.”

“You’re definitely doing that,” Kunzite said, sounding very amused. “I told you that you made it to the next round. And you have. But that’s all I told you, if you’re trying to call me a liar.” He started slicing off a chunk of boiled potato from his plate. “Besides, I’m not the only one involved in the decision-making process.”

“But you are a significant part of that process?” Minako asked, leaning in closer to him. “As in, if you really wanted to, you could put a heavy thumb on the scale?”

“Maybe,” Kunzite said. “But I didn’t say I would, again, I’m not a liar.” He lifted the piece of potato to his mouth.

“No. You’d be worse than that. You’d be a thief,” Minako suggested cryptically. “If you don’t do everything in your power to make sure that I’m the last woman standing, you’d be a thief.”

“Oh, this’ll be interesting,” Kunzite said, reaching down to the ashtray on the right side of his plate to grab his smouldering cigarette, delicately lifting it up and taking it to his mouth. “Come on, Minako. You never had the job. I can’t take it from you, it wasn’t yours.”

“Not the job,” Minako corrected. “It’s not the job I’m talking about. It’s a future that I’m talking about.”

“And how could I possibly have stolen a future from you?” Kunzite asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, here’s the thing,” Minako said. “Let me tell you something about me, Kunzite. I make forty bucks a week working as a waitress in Queens.”

“An aspiring model working as a waitress? Will wonders never cease,” Kunzite said.

Minako continued on. “My parents and I don’t exactly get on great, so they’re not offering much support to me out here. My apartment is a single twelve by twelve room, I share a bathroom with nineteen other people. I keep a fireplace poker next to my bed to deal with rats. I take my socks off when I get home from work every day even if I don’t want to so I can wear them two days in a row and save on laundry.” She pointed at her outfit. “You should see the rest of my clothes.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel bad for you, I’m sure most of the other models interviewed aren’t much better off,” Kunzite pointed out. “But, none of those models are currently having a seven dollar steak at Delmonico’s, so why don’t you just appreciate that for now?”

“Exactly!” Minako exclaimed. “That’s what I’m saying. See, earlier today, I was living in the present. Living the now. The things that filled my mind, so small and insignificant, they may as well not exist. Can I afford that cup of coffee? Can I save two cents on a carton of cigarettes if I go three blocks down? Should I spend the fifteen bucks I got doing that newspaper ad on booze, or stash it in my unmentionables drawer?” She shrugged. “Things that don’t matter.”

“Sounds like they matter to you,” Kunzite objected with a shrug.

“For a few hours. Maybe a couple days at most,” Minako explained. “But see, today, I go in to take my shot at a gig for Coca-Cola, and the thought of something bigger crosses my mind. And that’s one thing. But then, you go out of your way to meet with me privately, and I start thinking, wow, I must have done something right. And then, you, someone with the power and influence to make or break me here, invites me out to dinner. So I’m feeling really good, like I got this in the bag. And I start to dream. Now, I’m not thinking about what I’m gonna eat tonight, or how I’m gonna make rent at the end of the month. ‘Coca-Cola? With a job like that, I can make plans!’ Suddenly, I’m thinking years into the future. I’m seeing myself out of that matchbox apartment and into a deluxe suite by Rockefeller Center, closet full of Pierre Cardin and Dior, Jaguar XK120 parked down in the garage, big shot actors burning up my phone line trying to see if I’m free for dinner.”

“That last one cuts me deep, I can’t lie,” Kunzite said, nevertheless still sounding amused by her diatribe.

“Before you know it, it doesn’t even matter that I’m a woman anymore. Forget modeling, I’m beyond that. I’m Estee fucking Lauder. An American success story. That’s what you gave to me, inviting me here tonight. Forget that you didn’t give me the job. Just meeting me out on the sidewalk earlier today, I made a future for myself off that. And if I don’t get this job, then it’s like you just stole from me.” She nodded over to Kunzite. “Like you took that future from me.”

Kunzite sighed. “Well. It’s disappointing to not hear my name anywhere in that future of yours. But, you make a compelling argument.”

“I just gave you the abridged version,” Minako said slyly. “I’ll be happy to paint a more..robust picture of it should we meet again.” She shrugged. “Hopefully we’ll have a reason to.”

“Ahhh,” Kunzite said. “Well, Minako, I think I’m sold. I imagine you’ll be quite happy with how the remainder of this interview process plays out. Let’s just say you’re at the top of the list.”

“See? Was that so hard?” Minako said. “Doesn’t it feel better, not being a thief?”

“This was a mistake,” Kunzite admitted to himself. “And you know what? I don’t regret it at all.”

Minako, her sales pitch having had the desired effect, returned her focus to her steak, working her knife against the tender meat.


End file.
